


A Shot in the Dark

by romanticalgirl



Series: Life on the Streets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Fisting, M/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: A sequel to "For God and Country" - Several months after Steve's been cleared of all charges, he and Bucky are together and happy.Then Bucky gets shot and Steve gets himself accused of another murder. Which puts a damper on things.** please see notes for warnings





	A Shot in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> There is an off-screen rape/murder of an OC. The scene is described by Steve and is the setting for the crime he's accused of.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about the law other than what I've seen on TV, so please forgive any mistakes and pretend I know what I'm talking about.

Bucky’s not sure who he’s pissed at the most -- the surgeon, the doctors, the EMTs, himself, or the asshole that shot him.

No. No. That guy wins.

Bucky might be on drugs. Good drugs. _Really_ good drugs.

He turns his head and Natasha’s sitting there. He thinks it’s Natasha. It’s a Natasha-shaped blur. Also he’s pretty sure that she was there when the shooting happened. It was loud. He remembers that for sure. He thinks it was supposed to be painful, but he doesn’t really remember that. It’s not painful now, but he thinks it still should be.

“Ow.”

The Natasha-shape moves and towers over him and, yeah. That’s Natasha. He can tell by the glare. “Bullshit ‘ow’. You’re on Dilaudid, and high as a fucking kite, and I could punch you in the face and you wouldn’t feel it for a week.”

“Feel like I’m melted.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not.” She sighs and strokes his hair back from his forehead. 

“It’s floopy. My hair. My hair is floopy.”

“Your whole body is floopy, Sarge.” She makes a face when she says the word “floopy” and Bucky laughs, but _that_ hurts. “Steve’s not answering his phone.”

“Steve. Oh, shit.” Bucky struggles to sit up, but Natasha puts one finger on his forehead, and it’s too much pressure to fight against. “His thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about Steve’s dick. I’ve heard way too much about it in my lifetime, and you’ve only been with the guy for eight months.”

“No. Not that thing. Though that thing is great. _Amazing_. Amazingly great.” He smiles, and he’s sure he looks like a complete idiot. “It’s all long and thick and when it’s hard it’s…”

“Bucky. Shut up.” He frowns at her, because he’s pretty sure he wasn’t saying anything. Natasha sighs. “Why isn’t Steve picking up his phone?”

“I can’t answer that and shut up at the same time. You suck as an interrogator.”

“You’re on drugs, so I’ll let you get away with that. Once.” 

“Hmm. Okay.” He closes his eyes and smiles. He feels really good.

“Bucky. Focus. Steve.”

“Oh. Right. Steve. I love Steve.” Natasha rakes her hands through her hair and takes a deep breath. “Wow. You have amazing tits when you do that.”

“ _James_.”

“You do. That’s all I’m saying. Amazing. You’re amazing. I love you too.”

“ _Steve_.”

“He’s at his thing. His award show. He’s getting an award. Did I tell you that? I’m sure I told you that. The ‘really good design stuff’ award. It has a name. But that’s what I remember. For his houses. Because he’s a really good design stuffer. I love him.”

“Wow.” Sam’s voice follows the swoosh of the curtain in front of the door. “He’s higher than the last meth-head I arrested.”

“Sam? Is that Sam? I love Sam. He’s great. He has shitty taste in beer, but he’s great. He doesn’t have amazing tits, but I bet he’s great in the sack. You should have sex with Sam, Nat. You’d be great. All black and white and red all over.” He starts laughing and it still hurts, but he’s got some sort of button in his hand. He pushes it and he feels even floopier. Floopier. The word makes him laugh even more. “Like the joke. Only r-e-d instead of r-e-a-d. God, I’d forgotten how fucking hilarious that joke is.”

Natasha’s phone rings and she points to Sam. “It’s Steve. You deal with Mr. Nutty here.”

“I have great nuts. Steve’s said so. Sam. I love Steve.”

“Yeah. Anyone with eyeballs knows that, Sarge. Except probably him, because you guys are stupid as fuck about each other.”

“He’s beautiful. And smart. Not stupid. He’s perfect. And I love him. I’ve never said that. About anyone. To him. He doesn’t know that I love him. I should tell him.”

“Not while you’re drugged. Trust me.” Sam sits on the edge of Bucky’s bed. “He’s gonna kill you when he finds out you got shot. Nat almost killed you. And the  
asshole that did it is _definitely_ lucky he’s not dead. Remind me never to fuck with you. Your partner’s scary as hell.”

“Steve’s not scary.”

“Steve is frightening, especially when he gets that face.”

“Oh! Yes. That face! I know it well.” Bucky attempts to make the face, but he’s pretty sure from Sam’s snort of laughter that he doesn’t get it quite right. “Grrr.”

“But I meant your other partner.”

“I’d never cheat on Steve. I love him.”

“I meant Natasha.” 

“Oh. Yes. She’s scary all the time. Not just when she makes a face.” He can’t make Natasha’s face because her face is just her face no matter what kind of emotion she’s feeling. Rage usually makes her smile. “I love her too. Just not in a sexy way.”

“Do you think they can make him stop talking?” Natasha comes back into the room and sits on the other side of the bed. Bucky tries to watch them both, but it makes his head hurt when his eyes try to work like that. “Steve’s on his way.”

“Oh, he’s gonna be mad. I missed his design award thingy. I ruined his night.” Bucky starts crying, and he’s pretty sure it’s the drugs, but it might just be disappointing Steve. He’d sworn he’d be there. Sworn that he wouldn’t let work get in the way. His voice is milky with the tears he can’t stop. “I promised. Does getting shot count as work getting in the way? It does, doesn’t it? I’m the worst boyfriend in the world.”

“Steve’s not going to be mad. Steve’s freaked out and panicked and better be taking a goddamn cab rather than his motorcycle to get here or I’m going to kick his ass.” Bucky looks at Sam and points at Natasha, because _that_. That’s the face. “I told him you’re okay.”

“I’m on drugs.”

“We’re all aware.”

“Drugs are bad. You have to arrest me.”

“These aren’t the bad drugs. These are the good drugs.”

“They’re really good,” Bucky nods and he’s glad that doesn’t hurt. “I’m gonna sleep now.”

“Probably the best idea you’ve ever had, Sarge.” He’s not sure which one of them says it. He thinks they’ve melted into one. And that’s the last thing he thinks for a while.

**

The next time he wakes up he feels a little less like he’s swimming through cotton. He glances around the room, and Steve’s there. Bucky feels a huge swoop of relief in his stomach, because _Steve’s there_. Steve’s also sitting on what has to be the world’s most uncomfortable chair and frowning, obviously sleeping.

He croaks when he tries to talk and Steve jerks awake. Bucky wonders how long he’s been asleep. “You look like shit.”

“You got shot.” His eyes are red-rimmed in contrast to the dark bags underneath them. 

“Yeah.” He frowns at the sudden ache he feels in his stomach. Fuck. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Ow.” Steve scrubs at his eyes and sits up. It’s clear Bucky was wrong and it’s not a chair so much as a torture device. Steve actually winces. “Do you need me to call the nurse?”

“I have a catheter, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Then nope.” He manages a smile, but from the very unimpressed look Steve is giving him, it’s not amusing him in the slightest. “I don’t suppose you might want to kiss me, huh?”

“Natasha said you don’t deserve it.” He stands up and moves over to the bed, brushing Bucky’s hair off his forehead before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss there, then on the tip of his nose, before he ghosts his lips over Bucky’s. “She might be right.”

“I didn’t do it on _purpose_.”

“I told you before you’re not allowed to get shot. I don’t care if it’s only in the metal arm. It’s not okay. And this? This is _really_ not okay.” His fingers don’t press down on the blanket as he moves his hand over Bucky’s abdomen. Even the thought of a touch makes Bucky wince. “Yeah.”

“Steve. Hey.” He reaches out and flops his hand around until Steve catches it, probably out of pity. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s your job.” He shakes his head and sighs. “And you’re good at your job. But can you please just arrest people who have bad aim?”

“Chances are if they have bad aim, they haven’t done anything for me to arrest them.” He squeezes Steve’s hand and hates that his own grip feels weak and insubstantial. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“Yeah. Natasha told me. I guess she managed to get the doctors to tell her?”

“Would you keep anything from Natasha?” He squeezes again. “When did you last sleep?”

“I was asleep when you woke up.”

“No. That wasn’t sleep. I don’t think anything you do in that chair could be considered sleep. Or restful. It looks like it’d be more comfortable if it had thumbtacks in it.” He brings Steve’s hand up and kisses the back of it, manages to turn it over and kiss his palm. “Real sleep.”

“I don’t know. You’ve been in here three days.”

“Thr… _three_ days? What the hell?”

Steve pulls his hand away and scrubs at his eye with it. “Apparently the first night something happened right before I got here. Internal bleed? I’m not sure. They rushed you into surgery again. You’ve been out for two days.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky reaches for Steve’s pocket and grabs his phone to look at the date. He blinks a few times but it refuses to change. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Natasha made me leave to change clothes when you were in recovery. She said if I was going to stay around I should be in something comfortable, and they didn’t have scrubs that would fit me.”

Bucky frowns and then it comes rushing back. “Oh, shit. Your dinner. Banquet. Award. Oh, shit, Steve.” He groans and drops his head back onto the pillow. “I’m so sorry. I was going to be there. I swear I was. I know how important it was to you.”

“Don’t. You got _shot_ , Buck. That’s an automatic excused absence.”

“I wanted to be there.” 

The corner of Steve’s mouth curves up in the hint of a smile. Bucky would much rather see the smile that would have been on Steve’s face when he walked up to receive his award for his design work on housing for disabled military veterans. Of course, if Steve had been waiting on him…

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Steve leans in and kisses him again. “I promise, it’s really okay. Get some more sleep. It’ll help your body heal.”

“You should get some rest. Real rest. Go home. Sleep in your bed. I mean, if you really want to be miserable, sleep on the pull-out couch, but I wouldn’t inflict that chair on my worst enemy, and I’m actually kind of fond of you.”

Steve’s jaw tightens and Bucky can see by the look in his eyes that he’s likely to fight, but then his shoulders drop and he sighs. “Okay. I’ll go after you fall asleep.”

“I’m…” Bucky yawns and grimaces as it pulls at his stomach. “I’m gonna call Natasha and she’s gonna make you leave. She’s mean. And scary.”

“Okay, Buck.” Steve nods, and Bucky intends to glare at him until Steve hands him his phone, but he passes out instead.

**

“You suck.” Bucky winces as Natasha helps him to his feet. “Where’s Steve? Steve is gentle with my important parts. Like my body.”

“Steve is getting food and, hopefully, eating for the first time in a week. Jesus. You couldn’t have at least given him some pudding or something?”

“Pudding is delicious and mine.” 

She gives him an unimpressed look. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready since you started jabbering at me.” He gives the wheelchair a dirty glare. “I don’t need that.”

“Yeah?” Her eyebrow arches perfectly. “So take a step.”

“I didn’t break a leg or anything.”

“No. You had a bullet tear through abdominal muscles, two major surgeries, and three blood transfusions. I think that ranks a little higher on the trauma scale than breaking a leg.” 

Bucky frowns, wrinkling his nose at her. He shifts his weight and, if it weren’t for Natasha’s quick hands, would have ended up on the ground, in pain, and probably bleeding. “Okay.” He nods woozily. “Wheelchair.”

“Nope. Bed.” She leans him back and then guides his legs back onto the bed. “No arguing, and I won’t tell Steve you waited for him to be gone so you could prove that you could do it when he came back.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Her look manages to convey that she’s even less impressed with him than she’d been moments before. “He won’t leave and look after himself. If I can get up and move around, I can go home and, even if he won’t leave then, he can get some sleep on an actual bed and eat real food. You saw him, Nat.”

“I know. I know you’re worried about him, but he’s a big boy and he can make his own choices. You, on the other hand, are apparently a child and need direct supervision.” She pulls the sheet back up over him and pats his thigh. “And I’ll talk to him. Tell him the rest of us will take Bucky-sitting shifts so he can go home and get some real sleep, some real food, and maybe a shower. You’re both getting a little ripe.”

“He won’t go for it.” Bucky settles back and sighs. “You think if I call the nurse she’ll get me pain meds before he gets back?”

“Or you could stop being a macho jerk.”

“I don’t want him to worry, okay?”

“He’s going to whether you want him to or not. Clint’s coming over. He’ll bore you back to sleep. Or gross you out with work talk. I’ll take Steve back to his place and make sure he eats and sleeps, okay? I don’t need him ending up in here with you because he needs treatment too.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “Yeah. Thanks, Nat.”

She smiles. “You owe me now. It’s great.”

“Great.” After a minute, he looks over at her. “Did you get the guy alive?”

“The shooter? Yeah. You kidding? I wasn’t going to let the asshole that shot my partner get away with something as quick and easy as death.”

**

Sam takes way too much pleasure in wheeling Bucky out the front doors of the hospital. Bucky’s fairly certain he’s taken more shit since he got shot than during the entire rest of his career. Of course, that might be because he was a captive audience. 

“So where’s Big Daddy?” Sam locks the brake on the wheelchair and leans over Bucky’s shoulder. “Why isn’t tall, blond, and handsome coming to pick you up?”

Riley pulls up in front of them, and Bucky carefully eases himself from the wheelchair. “He has a job he can’t get out of, and he’s already behind schedule from staying in the hospital with me. Besides, it’s not like you two lazy asses were doing anything.”

Sam holds Bucky’s arm while he slides into the back seat, stretching out and wincing at the pull of his muscles. The doctor had said he was healing remarkably well, but it doesn’t feel like it if Bucky listens to anything from his ribs down. “I guess us two lazy asses don’t need to take you out for a thick, juicy  
cheeseburger from Stan’s then, huh?”

“It is a moral imperative that you take me to Stan’s. If I don’t eat something with actual flavor soon, I might start gnawing on one of your arms.”

“Shoot a guy in the gut and he turns into a cannibal. Someone’s gonna have to write that up in a report.” Sam nods at Riley and they drive off. Bucky leans his head back on the seat. 

“You have no idea whatsoever how glad I am to be out of there. I mean, don’t get me wrong -- yay being alive -- but I’m pretty sure Nurse Rachel was actually a stripper who was coming onto Steve, and Nurse Camilla is a serial killer who eats baby animals.”

Sam snorts. “You’d know if a woman came on to Steve because he’d turn about sixty shades of red, his ears would burst into flames, and he’d polite her to death. Besides, Nurse Rachel only had eyes for me.”

“Why do we put up with him, Riley?”

Riley grins at Bucky in the rearview mirror. “Decent close rate, buys lunch a lot.”

“Valid reasons.” Bucky yawns, more tired than he should be given that all he’d done was gotten into a wheelchair and gotten out of it about fifteen minutes later. “Where’re we going?”

“Your place.”

“Mm. I miss my bed. Will my bed be there?” 

“Yeah.”

“Right. Bed. Oh. Stan’s.” He yawns again and squeezes his eyes closed. “Shit.”

“Go ahead and nap, Sarge. We’ll wake you up when we get there. You can get Stan’s later.”

“Steve knows, right? That I’ll be at home?”

“Yeah. Steve knows. Now sleep.”

Bucky doesn’t, though he does sort of drift. He’d taken a painkiller before leaving, so the edge is off, even though he knows he’s going to hurt when it wears off. He pushes the thought away by thinking of Steve. Of lying next to him. Of lying on his chest. Of feeling his arms around him. Of kissing him. Touching him. He hums softly, and Sam laughs.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. You may not have been listening, but it’s all written down. No sex for you. Giving, receiving, masturbating. None of it. No strain on your abdominal muscles except the organized exercises. Of which sex isn’t one.”

“I’m not thinking about sex.”

“You’re thinking about Steve, ergo…”

“Missed him. Just want to lie down with him.” He can’t help smiling. “Just feel him against me, y’know?”

“You’ll be home soon, Sarge.” Riley’s voice overrides Sam’s. “Seriously, rest now so you’ll actually be awake when Steve shows up.”

Bucky turns his head to stare out the window and watch the city go by. They’d taken him to the hospital closest to the shooting, so he’s a ways from home, and eventually the car lulls him to sleep. He’s not sure if minutes or hours have passed when he wakes up, disoriented and confused, as Riley and Sam help him out of the car.

They take the elevator and after Riley opens the door, Sam guides Bucky inside. The place smells stale and Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Just put me on the couch.”

“Nope. Bed.” Sam keeps walking, his arm around Bucky’s waist guiding him toward the bedroom. “Written instructions. Doctor’s orders, and if you think I’m not going to follow those, you’re crazy, because Steve would kick my ass from here to the station and back again.”

“He’s going to be worse than the nurses,” Riley agrees. “You’re not moving for the next month, Sarge.”

“Do you think I should ask him to move in?” Bucky’s pretty sure it’s not the drugs talking, but it might be. He’s been on a lot of drugs lately. “But he has a house. I like his house, but I like it here. Maybe this could be our summer place.”

“Sarge.” Riley grabs Bucky’s chin and forces him to look him in the eye. “If you don’t go to sleep, Sam’s going to drug you and you won’t be able to wake up when Steve comes home and he’ll make that damn face he does when he’s sad and you’ll have to wake up to it and live with the fact that you disappointed him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky’s eyebrows lift. “I hate that face.” He looks out of the corner of his eye toward Sam. “Steve’s got a lot of faces.” 

Riley makes him look at him again. “Disappointment, Bucky. Do you want Steve to be disappointed in you?”

“No.” Bucky swallows hard. “No.”

“So you’re going to go to sleep?”

“I’m gonna go to sleep.”

Riley lets his chin go and pats him on the head. “Good boy.”

**

He knows he’s not alone even before he opens his eyes. Turning his head, he blinks and manages to wake up to the sight of Steve Rogers lying on the bed beside him, elbow on the pillow and head propped in his hand. His other hand rests on the curve of his hip, but the minute Bucky’s eyes open, he moves it over to Bucky’s. 

“Hi.”

“Oh my god, shut up and kiss me.”

Steve laughs and moves his hand so he can brace himself over Bucky, thumb brushing the opposite hip. He leans in, so close and not close enough. His smile is better than any pain medication Bucky’s had yet. “Hi.”

Bucky fists his hand in Steve’s hair and pulls him down. It’s not a kiss so much as Bucky devouring him, needing him. It’s desperate and it’s been so _long_. He licks into Steve’s mouth and slides their tongues together, tastes every inch. He can’t pull back, not even to breathe. He just has to be closer.

His free hand slips along Steve’s ribs and down to his hip, curving over his ass. “Wanna feel you. C’mon, Steve.”

“Bucky. Buck. C’mon. Can’t.” Steve pulls away, panting roughly and looking like Bucky’s kissed him within an inch of his life. “You’re still healing.”

He rests his forehead against Bucky’s but, rather than accept that, Bucky tilts his head to find Steve’s mouth again. He’s starving for this. For _Steve_. He wraps his leg around both of Steve’s, ignoring the pain as he hitches it up so his heel digs into Steve’s upper thigh. “Just wanna feel you. Don’t have to fuck. Need it. Need you, Stevie.”

Steve groans into Bucky’s mouth and he thinks he’s won until suddenly Steve’s not there. He’s broken out of Bucky’s hold easily and shifted back onto the bed, putting inches between us. If Bucky had been at full strength or, hell, even half-strength, he could have kept him there, but like this Steve didn’t even have to try.

“You’re a menace.” Steve nuzzles just below Bucky’s ear. “Not sure I have the self-control to stay here with you, you lech.”

“Don’t go.” Bucky doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but the thought of Steve not being there all of a sudden makes everything ache. “Please. Don’t go.”

Steve props himself up again and looks down at Bucky. He reaches out and strokes his thumb from Bucky’s hairline to his jaw. “Not going anywhere, Buck.”

His voice hitches and he chokes a little on the relief. “Move in.” Steve leans in and kisses Bucky’s forehead. Bucky huffs in irritation. “Not like that.”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re rested, not on drugs, and healed up, okay?”

“I lo--”

Steve kisses him and shuts him up. When he pulls back, he puts a finger on Bucky’s mouth as he shakes his head. “Don’t you dare say that to me right now.” He sounds serious and Bucky’s brow furrows. “Don’t say it to me for the first time like this.” This time Steve’s voice breaks. “Please.”

Bucky nods and Steve moves his hand away. “I kind of already said it though, didn’t I? I mean, you know what I was saying.”

“Bucky, please.” Steve lays back on his back and Bucky hates that he can’t see his face anymore. “Don’t.”

It takes a long moment before Bucky responds. “Can we have pizza?”

**

Apparently taking a GSW to the abdomen means you can’t really do much for a lengthy amount of time. Which means Bucky is going fucking crazy. Netflix has taken to recommending shit even the people who created it wouldn’t watch just because Bucky’s watched pretty much everything else. 

He’s called Natasha to see if he’s really breaking the law if he downloads the new season of _Game of Thrones_ and she hangs up on him. It’s gotten to the point where no one from the station answers his phone calls because, apparently, they have jobs even if he’s sitting around on his lazy ass. It’s a direct quote that he’s gotten from several people, which means they’ve put together a script.

Except for Clint. Clint just leaves him on speaker while he works on autopsies, and Bucky can only listen to him weighing someone’s brain so many times, so he decides _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Season Seven_ might be worth a look.

He’s halfway through it and yelling at Applejack and Rainbow Dash to suck it the fuck up when Steve comes home, covered in sawdust and plaster dust and blood. Bucky’s used to the first two, which is the reason they have a rule that Steve says nothing and does nothing until he’s naked and in the shower. Bucky isn’t allowed to join him because of his bandages, but that doesn’t stop him from sitting on the closed toilet and enjoying the view.

The blood is something new. “Please tell me you didn’t throw anyone out a window.”

Steve glares at him. “Too soon.”

“Aw, baby.” Bucky keeps his tone light, but he’s already winced his way off the couch and is at Steve’s side and tracing the deep gash on Steve’s forehead. He loses his teasing tone. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t cause head wounds. Your shirt is covered in blood and the only reason you’re not waiting on an ambulance right now is because I know how much head wounds bleed, and yours doesn’t seem to be gushing blood. Now talk.”

“Just some flying debris.”

“What kind of debris? Razors? Bathroom. Now.”

Steve frowns and his eyes narrow. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“I have a gun. Don’t argue with me.”

“That doesn’t make me give you blow jobs, what makes you think it’ll make me go to the bathroom?”

“Okay, let’s not talk about your fantasies right now. Bathroom _Steven_.”

Steve glares at him, but goes. Bucky realizes the reason Steve’s wound didn’t look like it was gushing blood was because he must have pressed his shirt to it outside the door, because it’s bleeding heavily by the time he reaches the bathroom. Bucky plucks the phone out of Steve’s back pocket and dials 911. 

Bucky starts tugging at Steve’s shirt. “This is Detective James Barnes from Brooklyn PD, I need to report a head wound. Severe bleeding, but he’s conscious.” He ignores Steve whipping around to try to grab the phone, made easier by the fact that his eyes roll and he falls back against the sink. “Make that mostly conscious. He’s not at the scene where it happened.” Bucky reels off his address. “Not sure we need police, but definitely an EMT.”

“I’m fine.” Steve insists, though his voice slurs. The towel Bucky had grabbed and pressed to Steve’s head is already soaked through with blood. 

“Yeah. Maybe hurry.” Bucky leaves the phone on, but he turns his concentration to Steve. “Where were you.”

“‘M fine, Buck.”

“Goddamn it, Steve. Where _were_ you?” Steve doesn’t answer and Bucky narrows his eyes. He grabs Steve’s hand and presses it to the towel. “Hold that. Don’t argue.” He can’t stomp into the living room without causing himself pain, but the desire is there. He grabs his phone and dials Natasha. “Can you come over? I need you to interrogate Steve.”

“That didn’t go so well last time, remember.”

“He’s got a bleeding head wound, he won’t tell me what’s going on and EMTs are on their way. If not you, send someone else?” There’s a knock at the door and Bucky opens it for the EMTs. “Bathroom. That way. I have to go, Nat.”

**

By the time the EMTs are done, the bathroom looks like a blood bath. It reminds Bucky a little too much of the reason he’d met Steve, and the smell of copper is strong in the air. Steve is sitting on the toilet and still glaring at Bucky. The EMT has just finished off putting a bandage on Steve. “He really should come in.” The EMT frowns at Steve who shakes his head. “You’ve got a head wound, and they’re tricky. And you’re damn lucky, Mr. Rogers. An inch lower and it would have caught your eye.”

“And then you wouldn’t be able to glare at me,” Bucky crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You think he should go to the hospital?”

“I’m _fine_ , James.”

Bucky’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t say anything. The EMT stops at the door of the bathroom and strips out of his booties, shoving them in the biohazard bag along with all the detritus from working on Steve. “If he spikes a fever or the pain gets too much, take him to an urgent care.” He looks from one of them to the other. “Or if you guys end up beating the crap out of each other.”

Nodding, Bucky pushes off the wall. He strips off his socks and tosses them onto the pile of Steve’s clothes in the middle of the bathroom, then walks the EMT to the door where his partner is standing, finishing up their report. “Thanks.”

“I’m no expert.” The EMT glances back to the bathroom, then to Bucky when there’s no sign of Steve. “But I’d wager a week’s salary -- not that that’s much -- that that’s from a bullet.”

The heavy ball that’s been sitting suspiciously in Bucky’s gut gives a dark twist. “Keep your money. I know it was.” He rubs his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. He needs a shower. Steve needs a shower. He needs to kick Steve’s ass. “Don’t worry. I’ve already reported it. My partner’s on her way.”

They shake hands and Bucky does the same to his partner. “Thanks again. Both of you.”

He closes the door behind him and takes a deep breath. It hurts to do it, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle this conversation without it. He walks back to the bathroom and stops in the doorway. Steve is still sitting on the toilet, head back against the etagere behind him and his eyes closed.

“You want to tell me how you got grazed by a bullet?”

“No?”

“Try again.”

“Wrong place, wrong time, Buck. That’s all.”

“Try the fuck again, Steve.” He can’t help the sharp edge to his voice given that it’s the only thing covering the fear and panic. 

“Can I shower first?”

He sounds so exhausted that Bucky’s shoulders slump and all the emotion feels suddenly drained away, leaving him empty. “Yeah. Get undressed and I’ll get rid of your clothes. Put some towels down until we can get this cleaned up, and you can buy me new towels.”

Steve chuckles softly, but doesn’t stand up. It takes Bucky a minute to realize he probably can’t. “Can I, uh, have some help?”

“Yeah. Sit tight for a minute.” He goes to the bedroom to grab clothes for them both, since his own are splattered with blood -- Steve’s blood, which sends a shiver of horror up his spine -- then stops to get some more towels. He lays some on the floor, then puts the others on the bar on the shower door. He looks for somewhere clean to put their clothes and can’t find one, so he sets them right outside the door in the hallway. 

Steve’s far too pale. Bucky helps him stand, then strips him down. His hands roam over Steve’s body to reassure himself that he’s not shot anywhere else. He knows he’s not. He knows that the EMT checked him over, but he needs to see and feel it for himself now that his cop instincts have given way to the wave of fear that crashes over him. 

“I’m okay, Buck.” He sways on his feet and Bucky holds Steve’s shoulders to keep him upright.

“You are completely _not_ okay. C’mon.” He guides Steve back onto the toilet and strips off his own clothes, then turns on the water.

“Can’t get into the shower. Your bandage.”

“I can replace a bandage. I can’t replace you.” He helps Steve back to his feet and guides him into the shower, following him in. Most of the blood was on Steve’s clothes, so it’s mostly his arms and hands that need washing. Bucky lets the water do most of the work, letting Steve lean on him to keep Steve on his feet. By the time Bucky turns off the spray, Steve’s completely leaning on him. “C’mon, asshole.” His voice is affectionate, partially broken. “Forget clothes. You’re going straight to bed.”

Making Steve walk is difficult, and Bucky’s pretty sure he’s asleep before he hits the bed, still mostly wet from the shower. Bucky goes back into the bathroom and redresses his wound, then puts clothes on. There’s a message from Natasha on his phone informing him she’s on her way and she’s bringing beer and cake. Bucky sinks back onto the couch and closes his eyes.

He’s not sure how much time has passed before he opens his eyes to Natasha coming into the apartment with Clint in tow. Clint tosses him a beer that Bucky catches on instinct, cracking it open with his prosthetic hand. It dawns on him that the arm is probably the only reason he was actually able to keep Steve standing.

Natasha sets the cake on the coffee table, then goes into the kitchen, bringing back plates and silverware. “Sam and Riley are coming too. Tony and Bruce are at that conference.”

Bucky nods and sits up. He rubs his eyes and looks down at the cake. “Congrats, it’s a girl?”

“It was on sale. Also, apparently it was a boy.”

Clint shrugs. “Or a miscarriage We’re going to assume if someone was buying a cake the pregnancy was wanted.”

“Can you…” Bucky exhales. “Not talk about death the same night my boyfriend nearly got shot?”

“The pregnancy being wanted is a happy thing!”

“Ignore him.” Natasha takes the beer out of Bucky’s hand, then hands him an unopened one. “We can’t all do your party trick.”

Bucky pops open the bottle and then hands it to Clint before finally getting one for himself. “Did you hear anything at all?”

“Yes and no. Either way, you’re not going to like it.”

He sets his beer down and buries his hands in his hair. It requires him to lean over, which hurts, but the pain gives him something to focus on besides what Natasha’s going to say next. “Just say it.”

“There was a woman found beaten, possibly raped, not far from where Steve’s job site is. A house not far down the block that’s up for sale.”

She’s silent long enough that Bucky can fill in the blanks. “Steve _did not_ beat and rape someone.”

“There’s a lot of blood at the scene.”

“He _found_ her. Tried to _help_ her. Someone _shot at him_.” He looks from Clint to Natasha. “What?”

“She had a gun. Her fingerprints on it. We found the bullet. Blood on it. A _lot_ of blood at the scene, Bucky.”

“Like from a head wound.” Clint takes a drink of his beer, refusing to look at Bucky. Bucky wants to be sick.

“Ask her! _Ask her_. She’ll tell you! She’ll tell you he saved her! Why haven’t you fucking _asked_ her?”

“She’s dead.”

His hands tighten into fists and he can’t swallow right. “No. No.” He looks Natasha in the face and shouts it. “ _No_! No one is accusing him of this. _No one_. You know Steve. You _both_ know Steve. You _all_ know Steve. You know he wouldn’t… He would never…”

“Buck.” 

Bucky whips his head around at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Steve. Why the _fuck_...”

Steve looks at Natasha. “Am I under arrest?”

“They’re running the DNA, but it’s your blood type.”

“Makes sense. It’s my blood.” He exhales. “Clothes are in the bathroom still, I imagine. You’ll need them for evidence.”

“ _What the actual fuck, Steve_.” Bucky doesn’t care about the pain in his stomach as he stalks over and shoves Steve back hard. “Were you going to tell me that you walked in on someone beating a woman to death? Don’t you think that’s the kind of thing you _tell your fucking boyfriend?_ You know. _The cop_?”

Steve rubs his forehead at the edge of the bandage. “Please stop yelling.”

“You son of a bitch.” Bucky’s voice breaks. “Did you call it in? Did you at least do that?”

“He did, Bucky.” Natasha says quietly. “We’re not sure why he took off.”

“Not sure if you remember,” Steve gives them all a sickly smile. “I was arrested on suspicion of murder less than a year ago.”

“ _So you thought you’d do it again_?”

“I panicked. I _panicked_ , okay?” Steve closes his eyes and grabs onto the door jamb as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “I was walking back to my truck and I heard noises. I went in and --”

“Steve.” Natasha’s voice is soft and she shakes her head. “Stop talking.”

“I’m just explaining to him that --”

“Steve. Stop talking.”

He opens his mouth again and Bucky slams his hand over it. “She’s telling you that you have the right to remain silent. So shut the fuck up.”

**

“James, you know we have to take him. You’re a cop. He stays and, if he’s charged with this, you’re under suspicion too.”

“Then arrest me.”

“Bucky.” Steve shakes his head. “Don’t. I need you on my side, okay? Please?”

“You wouldn’t do this.”

“I know it. You know it.” He gestures at Clint and Natasha. “I think they know it. But you getting thrown in jail with me isn’t going to help.” His blue eyes are so sincere, Bucky isn’t sure if he wants to kiss him or punch him. “Please.”

He opts for kissing him, rising up as he pulls Steve down. He kisses him hard and desperate. He breathes shakily and whispers against Steve’s lips. “At least I’m not the one arresting you this time?”

“It didn’t turn out so bad last time.” Steve pulls back and traces Bucky’s jaw. “I lo--”

Bucky clamps his hand over Steve’s mouth again. “Don’t you dare say it right now. Don’t you dare.”

Steve nods then pulls away. He glances down at his sweats and bare chest. “Uh. Is it okay if I change?”

Natasha gives him a tight smile. “You a flight risk?”

“The odds of me scaling down thirteen flights are slim to none. Besides, I don’t run from anything.”

Natasha sighs. “I know.”

**

Bucky knows he shouldn’t be driving since he hasn’t been cleared by his doctor, but he doesn’t actually give a shit at this point. He follows Clint, Natasha, and Steve to the precinct counting every breath so he’ll calm down. Halfway there and it’s still not working. 

He’s pretty sure Natasha _and_ Steve are going to yell at him, but he doesn’t care. He can swing bail and take Steve into his own recognizance. He’ll call Nick Fury and get him in here. The evidence is all circumstantial. Substantial, but circumstantial. 

“Fuck.”

Sam is standing at the door to the squad room, arms crossed over his chest when Bucky walks in. “Absolutely not.”

“Get out of the way, Sam.”

“They’re already in the box. You’re not a cop right now, which means you’re _not_ in the box. You’re not objective, you’re not going to be anywhere near this side of the case. Now, sit your ass down.” He grabs Bucky’s arm and guides him over to one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. “You’re family right now. That’s the only thing you get.”

“ _Sam_.”

“Seriously.” Tony walks in and straight over to Bucky. “Please tell me it’s a practical joke and your boyfriend did not just get arrested for _another_ murder. Maybe you should put ‘must not be accused of any crimes ever’ in your match-dot-com profile.”

“Fuck off, Tony.”

“I mean, I’m not sure the tortured thing is going to work in this case, you know.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “Fuck. Off. Tony.”

“I’m just saying that maybe your taste in men has been a little skewed by the job.”

Bucky stands up and Sam’s between them before he can take a step. He puts a hand against Bucky’s chest and glances over his shoulder. “Tony, man.”

Tony holds both hands up in surrender. “Just saying that twice in one year’s a little excessive.”

“Tony.” Sam’s voice is tight. “I’d rather he not get arrested for assault on a police officer. _I’d_ rather not get arrested for assault on a police office, so back the fuck off.”

Tony goes, backing away. Sam turns to Bucky, not moving his hand. Bucky lets out a shaky breath and rolls his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. Go call his lawyer.”

“I will. I will.”

Sam nods and goes back to his desk. Bucky waits until he’s sitting down before he heads to the box, shutting himself in the observation room. He can hear Sam’s voice, but it’s going to take more than Sam to get him out of the room.

“You understand your rights, Mr. Rogers?” Steve gives Natasha a nod. She waits a beat and then exhales. “Would you like your lawyer present?”

“I’m sure my partner has called him for me.”

She tilts her head. “Are you?”

Steve laughs dryly. “No.”

“Would you like your lawyer present, Mr. Rogers?”

Bucky’s busy dialling Nick’s office, but Fury doesn’t answer. He leaves a message and has to switch his phone to his right hand so he doesn’t crush it in his fist. Steve puts his elbows on the table and drops his head between his arms, fingers laced behind his head.

“Yes,” Bucky hisses at the observation glass. “Yes, you fucking want your lawyer, you stupid ass.”

“You are entitled to a lawyer, Mr. Rogers; however, if you are waiving your right to one, I’ll need you to sign this.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I want my lawyer.”

**

Natasha waits until Steve is led off to a holding cell before she glares at the glass. “Get your ass in here, Barnes. _Now_.” Bucky goes into the box and sits on the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look at Natasha’s face, staring instead at her boots as she paces the small space. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“You heard everything he said to me. I’ll swear under oath that he didn’t say anything before then while I was cleaning him up. He hasn’t told me anything, Nat. I need to know what the fuck happened and you won’t let me _see_ him.”

“He’s a _murder suspect_ , James!”

Bucky drops his head and it takes him a moment to realize his hands are locked together behind his head, copying Steve’s earlier position. “I need to know what happened.”

“You being here compromises his case. You talking to any of us about this compromises his case. You think you could have done harm by fucking him while you were investigating him last time? This isn’t a joke.”

“I know that.”

“Steve is in trouble. Real trouble. Let me work the case, okay? Trust me to do that.” 

Bucky’s quiet for a moment before nodding. “Can I see him?”

“You know you can’t.” She reaches out and touches his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I called Fury. Hopefully he’ll be here soon.” He looks up at her. “He didn’t do this.”

“Then trust me to find who did.”

**

Bucky paces the hallway while Steve talks to Fury when he finally shows up hours later. He paces while Steve is questioned. He paces while Steve is walked out of the box, Natasha’s hand around his arm, his hands cuffed together behind him. 

Instead of walking him through the length of the squad room, Natasha guides him through the break room and out into the hallway where Bucky is. He rushes over, not giving a shit about where they are, grabbing Steve’s face between his hands and kissing him. Natasha doesn’t move other than to look away.  
Steve leans into him as Bucky peppers him with hungry kisses. “I’m gonna post bond as soon as I can.”

“Bucky, it’s a murder case.” Steve closes his eyes and rests his head against Bucky’s “We have to go to court for bond to be set. Just go home, okay? Get some sleep. Let yourself heal.”

Bucky tilts his face up so he can kiss Steve again. His voice is thick, milky with tears. “I’m going to post bail and take you home with me. I won’t let them keep you here.”

“I have to take him.”

Bucky ignores Natasha and runs his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “I swear. I’ll bring you home as soon as I can.”

Natasha tightens her grip on Steve’s arm and Bucky’s prosthetic fingers are wrapped around her wrist before she can do anything else. Her eyes zero in on Bucky, and he knows he’s about to cross a line. He can’t focus on her, though, only on Steve.

“Tell me you believe me.”

Steve nods though the motion is barely perceptible. “I do.”

“Barnes.” Natasha’s voice is as cold as ice. Bucky releases her and sighs shakily as she gives Steve a nudge. “Move.”

**

It’s four days before Bucky brings him home. There’s the rest of the weekend, and Monday ends up being a holiday, and Bucky’s going out of his mind by the time Steve’s remanded into his custody. Bucky wants to take him home from there, but they go back to headquarters so Steve can get his things and they can sign him out. 

Bucky is radiating anxiety and anger and no one on the squad comes near him. He doesn’t blame them. He knows he looks like a powder keg about to blow. By the time they can leave, his stomach is aching from how tense he is. Steve reaches out and rests his hand along Bucky’s neck and, running on the fear and uncertainty that has been his constant state since Natasha had led Steve out of the apartment, Bucky jerks and shakes the touch off.

Steve doesn’t say anything, keeping his hands jammed in his pockets as they walk to the car. Bucky doesn’t bother turning on the radio, because he knows he’d just snap it off seconds later. They’re a few miles out from Bucky’s when Steve finally speaks.

“Can we stop at my place? Get some things? While we’re out.”

Bucky just turns on his blinker and pulls a U-turn, taking one of the side streets that leads to Steve’s. The street lights flash through the dark interior as the skies open up and rain starts pouring down on them. Bucky parks in Steve’s driveway behind his truck. 

“Can I…” Steve closes his eyes, not looking at Bucky. “Can I borrow your key?”

Bucky turns off the car and hands the keys over to Steve. The storm roars loudly as Steve opens the door, and Bucky watches him as he crosses in front of the hood on his way inside. Fifteen minutes passes before Bucky can’t sit there any longer, so he gets out of the car and slams his door shut before heading into Steve’s house.

The storm gets muffled when the door closes, but the rain gets replaced by the soft hitching sounds coming from the bedroom. Bucky walks down the hall and stops in the door. Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, fighting like he can’t get a breath. Bucky waits until Steve manages an inhale that seems to fill his lungs before he pushes away from the door and goes to sit on the bed.

Bucky reaches out and puts his hand lightly on top of Steve’s where it’s resting on the mattress. His own breath feels tight in his lungs. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry. I’m an ass.”

A sad smile twists Steve’s features. “I didn’t do this.”

“Jesus. I know that, Steve. Fuck. You can’t believe that I thought you _did_.”

“The evidence makes it look like I did. You know what’s stupid about it? I mean, last time it was about me, right? Discredit me, accuse me. Whatever. This time it’s my own damn fault, and I’m going to end up in jail for it.”

“You’re not going to jail. We’re all going to figure this out. All of us. The squad isn’t going to let you down, Steve.”

“Fury told me what they have. She was beaten and raped. The trajectory of the bullet has been figured out and proves it was fired by someone lying on the ground. It’s my blood at the scene. Everywhere. And I ran.”

“Steve.”

“It was stupid, right? But…” He shakes his head and scrubs at his eyes with base of his palms. “If I got caught… You’re a cop. You need to put me as far away from you as you can. You can’t be with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m accused of _murder_ , Bucky. _Again_.” Steve laughs, the sound rough and slightly manic. “Pretty sure that doesn’t look good for you and your career.”

“You think I give a fuck about that?”

“No. But you should. You love what you do. You’re good at it. I’ll stay here, okay? I won’t leave the house, but I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Fuck that, and fuck you. Jesus, Steve. You did something stupid, but you didn’t do anything _wrong_.”

“You think that your superiors are going to give a shit?” Steve shakes his head. “Just go, okay? I’m not going to ruin everything for you.”

“I don’t give a shit about everything. I give a shit about us. I give a shit about _you_.”

“ _I_ give a shit, Bucky. About you. About your life. I’m not going to do this to you again. I care about you. So much. I’m not going to ruin you, risk you.”

“If you care about me so much, then you should fucking pack a few things and come home with me.”

“I can’t.” Steve doesn’t look at him, just carefully pulls his hand out from underneath Bucky’s. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Bucky snaps. “Get your shit and let’s go. You’re my responsibility until this goes anywhere, and if you want me to be such a law-abiding citizen, then you know that means we have to be together. Sleep on the couch. Sleep in the guest room, whatever, but you’re coming with me.” Steve’s head drops forward and Bucky can’t stand to sit there any longer. “I’ll be in the fucking car.”

**

Bucky hasn’t been near the guest bedroom since before he met Steve. He hasn’t had any reason to, but he opens the door now. It smells unused, like the air has just been waiting there for the door to open and let it out. “Make yourself at home.” He doesn’t look at Steve. Can’t. He’s angry and he’s hurt and he has an overwhelming urge to punch Steve in the face with the prosthetic so it will really hurt. 

Steve just nods, which makes Bucky want to punch him even more. Instead he heads to his own room, gathers Steve’s things from there and sets them right outside the guest room door. Steve is standing just inside the room, staring down at the bed. Bucky leans against the wall and watches him, eyes roaming over his shoulders and broad back, his waist and ass. 

“You should probably shower. Wash the jail off of you.”

Steve starts and turns around. He looks surprised to see Bucky there. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He nods, then his eyes catch on the stack of his clothes on the floor at Bucky’s feet. His shoulders slump “Yeah. I should… I need to get my stuff out of the bathroom. It’s okay? If I do that?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Yeah, Steve. It’s okay for you to do that. Just shower in there for tonight. We’ll worry about it tomorrow. I’m going to get a beer. You want one?”

“Yeah. Please.” 

Turning, Bucky heads toward the kitchen, seeing Steve bend down to pick up the stack of clothes Bucky had left there. He stays in the kitchen until he hears the shower start, then comes back into the living room. He sits on the sofa and stares at his beer. 

He doesn’t even hear the water turn off, just feels the depression of the couch as Steve sits beside him. He picks up his beer and takes a drink. When he lowers the bottle, he runs his thumb over the opening. “I haven’t asked. How are you? Your stomach.”

“Better. I have a check-up on Thursday to make sure everything’s healing right. Still have another two weeks off of work though. Mandatory recovery time.” He finally manages a sip of his beer. “I’m sure I’ll get yelled at for driving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Steve. Don’t.” Bucky sets his beer on the table when he realizes his hand is shaking. He threads his flesh fingers with the metal ones and hangs his head. “Please. I cannot hear you apologize to me right now.”

“Okay.” Steve takes another pull from his bottle, then sets it down next to Bucky’s. He rubs his hands on his thighs, his sweats molded to his skin. “I have to make some calls tomorrow. I have some contracts that I have to deal with. I’m guessing you don’t want to hang out while I work.”

“Actually.” Bucky glances at him. Steve’s hair is still damp and sticking up from where he towel-dried it. His t-shirt clings to his skin in places where he obviously hadn’t dried himself completely. All of that is familiar. What isn’t is the redness in Steve’s eyes, the raw look of someone who’s been crying. Bucky’s stomach clenches and he has to blow out a breath. “I think I’d like to see you work.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind. I could even hand you hammers and stuff so long as they don’t weigh over my allowed twenty pound limit.”

“I’d… I’d like that.” Steve rakes his hand through his hair and looks at Bucky. “I should try to get some sleep. I didn’t get much in the cell.”

“Yeah. Of course. You know where everything is, but if you need something, don’t… Uh, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thanks.” He says the word so softly, so unsure that it breaks Bucky’s heart a little more. Steve starts to stand and Bucky reaches out, grabbing his wrist. He’s careful not to grip too tight with the prosthetic, but he holds tight enough that Steve can’t move. Bucky stands and uses his other hand to make Steve face him. “Bucky.”

“If this is over, then let me say goodbye.” He closes his eyes as he leans in. Steve doesn’t move, so Bucky breathes against his lips before barely brushing them, more of a promise than anything. Steve makes a low sound deep in his throat and Bucky slides his hand down so he can thread his fingers with Steve’s. 

Steve’s breath catches and his lips part. Bucky rises up and captures Steve’s mouth with his, licking between his lips to brush against his tongue. Steve’s free hand settles in the small of Bucky’s back and Bucky threads his fingers into Steve’s hair, holding him. The kisses don’t last long. Bucky keeps them short and teasing, pulling back so Steve leans into him.

Bucky scratches at the nape of Steve’s neck just to feel the shiver run through him. Steve’s palm slides down Bucky’s back then up, underneath his t-shirt. It flattens against the curve of Bucky’s spine and Bucky kisses Steve again as he moves in closer. Their bodies fit together as Steve’s knee pushes between Bucky’s legs. Bucky hitches his hips so his cock is pressed against the hard muscle of Steve’s thigh.

Steve moans roughly and he takes over the kiss, tongue on Bucky’s, pressed against it, curved around it, sucking on it, licking it. He kisses Bucky like he’s desperate, like it’s the last time. Bucky barely keeps down the sob that hits him, instead wrapping both hands around Steve’s neck and hooking one leg around the back of his thighs.

Both of Steve’s hands drop down to Bucky’s ass and curve under it, pulling him up against him. Bucky wraps his other leg around Steve and steals the kiss back, needing it deeper, needing more. It’s frantic and wet, slick and sloppy as they suck and bite and moan into each other’s mouths.

“Please, Steve. Please.” He knows he’s begging. He doesn’t care as he whimpers against Steve’s lips. He’s not completely sure what he’s asking for -- more kissing? To take him to bed? To not ever leave him? Bucky tightens his legs and presses what feels like impossibly closer, chest flush against Steve’s. He turns his head, changing the angle of the kiss. “Love you. God, I love you.”

Steve shivers again, fingers digging into the flesh of Bucky’s ass. “Fuck, Bucky. I…” He bites Bucky’s lower lip hard and pulls, then sucks it between his lips. He flicks his tongue against it until he’s close enough to kiss him again. Steve takes a step back and then another until they’re in Bucky’s bedroom. Steve lays him out on the bed and looks down at him. His eyes are dark, nearly black, and he looks at Bucky like he wants to devour him. “Fuck.”

Steve crawls up the bed, crawls over Bucky and kisses him again. He keeps one hand braced against the mattress and slides the other back, curving Bucky’s leg over the back of Steve’s thigh. Bucky protests softly, the sound smothered by a kiss, so he takes matters into his own hands, tugging the waistband of Steve’s sweats down over his ass to the top of his thighs. Then Bucky catches the fabric on his heel and tugs it down.

The noise Steve makes curls around Bucky’s spine, and his whole body shudders. He scratches his nails over Steve’s ass and moves his hands between them, wriggling his own pants off so he can _feel_ Steve. He settles down on top of Bucky and everything is swallowed by the heavy pulse of his blood in his ears. 

“Tell me what you want,” Steve whispers hoarsely. “Tell me.”

“Fingers. God, your fingers. Fingers and your cock and everything. Don’t stop.”

Steve groans and kisses Bucky again, fucking into his mouth before he pulls back and shifts onto his knees between Bucky’s spread legs. Bucky’s thighs drape over Steve’s and he looks up at him. He can’t imagine what his face looks like because his body’s twisted up with so many emotions he can’t name them all. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Steve leans in again, pressing Bucky’s legs back. His body is a perfect weight against Bucky’s and Bucky digs his heels into Steve’s ass, the pain from his stomach too far back to feel. The rough laugh that Steve utters falls on Bucky’s skin as Steve nuzzles the join of Bucky’s prosthetic and his shoulder. Bucky’s breath hitches as Steve licks along the seam. “So fucking gorgeous, Buck.”

Bucky arches his hips up, trying to find the hot friction of Steve’s body. Instead Steve keeps himself distant, just his thighs against the inside of Bucky’s, his mouth on Bucky’s shoulder and neck before sliding down to his nipple and sucking the hard tip.

Bucky’s nails cut sharply into the skin of Steve’s shoulders, and he’s reduced to rough, heavy pants through parted lips. Steve eases back despite the moan of protest Bucky gives, working his way down Bucky’s body with wet, sucking kisses though he’s careful to avoid the bandage on Bucky’s right side. The next moan is as hungry as Bucky’s grasping hands. 

Steve reaches up for the lube before he moves further down, keeping his eyes on Bucky as he slides his tongue over the head of Bucky’s cock, letting the tip part the slit. Bucky hits Steve’s shoulder with a clenched fist as he arches more, needing more. Steve’s laugh is a hot gust over Bucky’s dick before his mouth closes around him.

Bucky shudders. “Yes. Fuck.”

Steve hums and takes Bucky deep. The vibrations echo along Bucky’s nerve endings and he smacks his fist onto Steve’s shoulder again. Steve laughs with Bucky’s cock deep in his mouth and Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s lower back, ankles locked together. He uses the position for leverage to fuck up into Steve’s wet heat, to slide against his tongue.

His blood is pounding and his cock feels thicker, more swollen than it ever has. He focuses on his pulse, refusing to let his brain engage, to think about what this all means. Steve’s mouth makes it easy, melting Bucky’s brains with the pure, hot pleasure that engulfs him. He doesn’t even hear the click of the lube cap, just feels the slick press of Steve’s fingers against his ass.

Steve rubs the tight muscle and Bucky fights his natural instinct and relaxes, wanting Steve’s fingers inside him like his cock is buried in Steve’s mouth. Steve’s finger rubs as he sucks Bucky’s dick, and that’s all Bucky’s conscious of, the only things he can feel. Steve’s other hand cups Bucky’s balls and he tugs them, the heavy weight pulling at something deep inside Bucky. He whimpers, gasping as Steve finally slides his finger in.

“Steve. Steve. Steve.” Bucky whispers his name like a prayer, pleading. 

Steve rubs his calloused finger against Bucky’s sensitive skin, sparking shocks up and down his spine. Squeezing and tugging on Bucky’s balls as he works his finger deeper, Steve still hasn’t looked away from Bucky, hasn’t stopped sucking him slow and easy.

He’s close, so goddamn close, and Bucky grabs a fistful of Steve’s hair and tugs. Steve hums again as he scrapes his short nails along Bucky’s perineum, as he pushes a second finger inside. Bucky shakes and trembles, coming apart as Steve swallows him down. Steve’s eyes are locked on his and Bucky knows he can’t look away, even if he wanted to. 

Steve’s fingers spread and stroke, stretching Bucky with agonizing precision. Bucky feels the slickness of lube on his hole again and Steve pulls two fingers back and pushes three in. Bucky’s languid and loose, stretching easily around Steve in the aftermath of his orgasm. Steve pulls off Bucky’s cock, but his tongue keeps licking at it, lapping and teasing the head. It’s just the right side of too much, and Bucky feels drugged.

It takes effort to keep his eyes open, to keep from falling under the spell of Steve’s practiced hands, but he wants to stay aware, awake so he can memorize every move Steve makes, burn every feeling and motion into his brain. 

Steve still hasn’t looked away, and he tilts his head, teeth grazing lightly against the skin of Bucky’s dick. “Yeah?”

Bucky nods, not sure what he’s agreeing too. Steve pulls away from Bucky’s cock and settles more on his knees, the position spreading Bucky’s legs wider. Steve’s slow smile lights another fire in Bucky’s goin. “Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips; the sight of his pink tongue on his wet, red, swollen flesh makes Bucky’s cock jerk even though he’s nowhere close to being able to get hard again. He watches Steve’s mouth, flicks his gaze up to his eyes. Licking his lips again, Steve leans forward and kisses Bucky, light and tender. 

“Steve.”

He pulls back, not saying anything else, his fingers twisting until there’s just a hot flash of white in Bucky’s vision. Steve laughs huskily, continuing to work Bucky over, rubbing and rubbing until Bucky’s ready to beg for mercy. He opens his mouth, but then Steve relents. Bucky’s body is rocking, pushing down against Steve’s fingers. Steve kisses Bucky again and then moves back, and Bucky immediately wants to feel Steve over him again.

“O-oh. Oh… Oh, fuck.” His voice breaks as Steve works a fourth finger inside Bucky’s hole. Lube drips down the crack of Bucky’s ass, rubs against the rim of his hole as Steve’s fingers push inside him. He scratches at Steve’s arms, too full, too much. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

“Feel so good, Buck.” Steve doesn’t sound like himself. His voice is too deep, too throaty. Everything is too much. “Four fingers in you. God, you take me so fucking good.”

He can’t do more than whimper. He doesn’t have the strength or the brain power for anything else. Can’t spare the breath to make words when it takes everything to keep his lungs working with the pressure and stretch and pain and _pleasure_. Steve’s voice is hot in Bucky’s ear, telling him how good he feels, how deep Steve’s fingers are, how tight he is around him. He finds Steve’s shoulders with his hands again, digging his nails in deeper to try to ground himself, to hold himself together.

“Need more. Gonna give me everything?”

Bucky thinks he nods. He means to, but then everything is washed in a haze as Steve slides his thumb inside him as well. Bucky’s never been stretched like this, never felt this full. Steve overwhelms him, fingers rubbing and searching and inevitably finding just the right spot that forces Bucky out of his head. He thinks he’s begging. He thinks he’s somewhere outside his body at the same time he’s grounded so deep inside of it.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Everything is hazy but Steve’s in sharp focus, the only thing in Bucky’s world. Steve and lube and _oh god_. Bucky keens and arches away from the heavy fullness of Steve’s fist opening him up. Bucky sobs softly, tears spilling down over his cheeks. He begs then. Begs Steve not to stop. And he doesn’t. 

_He doesn’t._

Steve’s hand moves in and out slowly, wrist twisting and knuckles against Bucky, inside him, owning him. Bucky shudders and whimpers and writhes at the end of Steve’s fist. He needs to feel it. Needs Steve to touch every inch of him, needs him to touch places that belong to no one else.

Bucky starts tugging on his own cock, even though he’s not quite hard. He needs some relief, some other sensation so he doesn’t get lost in this, so he doesn’t get lost somewhere in his own head. He tugs hard enough to hurt, but it’s a glorious counterpoint to the intensity of Steve fisting him. Hard short strokes, fist sliding out then fingers sliding back in, out again, and then his fist. 

Bucky’s lost. Lost in it. Lost in Steve. Lost _to_ Steve. It’s too much and not enough and he wants to come like this with Steve buried so deep inside him. He wants to close around Steve’s fist as Steve sucks his orgasm down. He’s actually sobbing now, unable to help the rough, wet hitch of his breath. 

Steve starts moving faster, just a little deeper and Bucky feels like he’s shaking apart. He comes again, a hot splash against his stomach and then it’s too much and he comes undone.

**

He’s not sure if he wakes up or comes to, but when he blinks again, he’s been cleaned up and is under the blankets. Every inch of his body hurts exquisitely, and he reaches out for Steve. The bed’s empty beside him and Bucky sits up, immediately regretting the movement. Oh _god_ he hurts.

“You’re going to be sore.” Steve’s voice is soft in the dark. Bucky tries to focus on him. “Lie back down.”

“Come to bed.”

“Buck…”

“I love you. And you love me. I know you do. So come to bed, Steve. Our bed.” He needs this. Needs Steve to _realize_ that he’s the most important thing in Bucky’s life. “Since the day I met you it’s been ours. So please.”

Steve exhales slowly and Bucky can hear him shift in his seat. 

“I need you. Fuck, I need you to breathe.”

“You shouldn’t need someone so much.” 

Bucky’s not sure if Steve’s talking to Bucky or himself. He knows that Steve feels responsible for his men who died out in the desert and the ones who died here at home, but that’s not who or what Bucky is. “I can live without you. I can go on. I can survive. I don’t want to. We don’t _have_ to. You didn’t do this, Steve, and Natasha is the best. She’ll prove it. She’ll find who did. If my job requires me to push away the man I love, then fuck my job.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’ll work with you. We can be a two-man business. Just, god. Don’t _leave_ me.”

Steve is silent, and Bucky has to fight the urge to sigh in defeat. He knows if Steve walks out of the room, then what happened really was goodbye. He doesn’t want that, but he knows that Steve will stick with whatever decision he makes. Kissing Bucky, giving in to Bucky, was a weakness he won’t allow again.  
Steve exhales shakily and Bucky clenches his hands into fists. There’s a long minute of silence, and then he hears Steve stand, hears him walking. Bucky’s breath is tight in his chest, strangling him, and his eyes are closed because he can’t watch Steve walk away from him. Then, instead of the sound of the door, he feels Steve sink down and sit on the edge of the mattress. Bucky breathes, sucking in air and the smell of Steve -- sweat and soap and a spiciness. 

Steve’s hand settles lightly on Bucky’s jaw, his thumb stroking his cheek. Bucky closes his eyes, even though it’s too dark to see. Steve’s hand moves down, settling over Bucky’s heart. “I do love you.”

Bucky wraps his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulls him down to stretch out on the bed beside him. “I suppose that makes it safe to tell you I know absolutely nothing about construction?”

He feels the breath of Steve’s soft laugh against his lips. “You have to keep your real job anyway, because if I don’t get sent to prison, I’m never leaving the house again and you’ll have to support me in the lifestyle to which I am accustomed.”

“There’s no ‘if’ here. Natasha’s going to find the person that did this.” He reaches out to touch the exposed scar on Steve’s skin. “Tell me what happened?”

Steve takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. He folds his arms behind his head, so Bucky moves closer, resting his head on Steve’s chest and feeling the rise and fall of his breath. “I keep thinking about it, about what happened and how it sounds, and no one in their right mind is going to believe me.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was finishing up for the night, loading my stuff into the truck, when I heard a sound. I didn’t clock it as a scream, just felt the fear in it, you know? That kind of bone-deep fear.” Bucky knows what Steve’s talking about. He felt it when he lost his arm. He knows Steve felt it when he watched his men be tortured. “I didn’t really think. I just dropped my stuff in my truck and headed toward the noise.”

Bucky hums softly to encourage him to go on, his hand rubbing from Steve’s collarbone down to the waistband of the sweats he’s wearing. He loves the rough feel of chest hair against his palm, loves the smooth slide of Steve’s skin. It grounds Bucky, and from the minute ways Steve’s body seems to relax he thinks it might do the same for him. 

“The door to the house was busted open. It’s been on the market for a while, and as far as I know, no one’s been there for ages. I haven’t seen anyone in the time I’ve been working in the cul-de-sac. But the noises were louder, so I knew there was someone. Someone being hurt.” 

Bucky glances up at Steve’s profile, following the line of it in the dark with his gaze. Steve wears his pain so visibly if you know how to look, how to see all the chinks in his armor. Bucky settles his hand over Steve’s heart.

“They have these dens. The houses. I could hear her screaming. He was over her, on her, and… I grabbed him, jerked him off of her, onto his back. He must have been holding the gun to her head because it was in his hands and the next thing I knew I was blinded and bleeding and on the floor. I crawled over to help her. But I was bleeding. My head was bleeding and she was so still. She was just… Her eyes were open and he’d made her bleed. I knelt there… God, I knelt between her legs, reaching up to find her pulse, and called nine-one-one.”

“Steve…”

“I just sat there for what felt like hours, and then I realized that I’d called the police and they were going to be there any minute and I was covered in blood and she was covered in blood and I was going to be a _suspect_ , and I panicked. I wanted… Fuck, I needed you. Needed to see you. I wasn’t trying to put you in this position. I wouldn’t…”

“I know. I know.” Bucky buries his head against Steve’s throat and plants a row of kisses. “We’re going to get through this, Steve. It’s okay. Keep telling the truth. Tell them everything you know. I know you’ve got a ridiculous memory, so you know things, even if you don’t think you do. We’re going to find this guy and he’s going to go to jail for what he did to her.”

“Pretty sure having two murder accusations means I’m not invited to the Policeman’s Ball, huh?”

Bucky raises up on his elbow and looks at Steve. It’s still dark, but there’s enough ambient light that he can see how fragile Steve is. Can see not just the chinks in the armor, but him completely without it. “Hey now. The only policeman’s balls I want you thinking about are mine.”

“Oh my god, that was awful.”

“Hey, you set yourself up for it.” He leans in and nuzzles against Steve before kissing him. “You know, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

“I don’t know, it seems fitting.” He tugs Bucky on top of him and stares up into his eyes. He traces Bucky’s jaw with his thumb and then catches it on Bucky’s lower lip, tugging it down. Bucky opens his mouth and takes Steve’s thumb inside it, sucking it firmly.

He lets go reluctantly when Steve pulls his thumb back. Bucky whines at the loss, then finds Steve’s mouth instead. “Wanna ride you.”

“Not sure you’re up for that.”

“‘M up.” Steve reaches back and rubs his hands over Bucky’s ass. Bucky makes a low noise at the touch, the stretch as Steve’s motion pulls at his skin. “Okay. ‘M gonna fuck you.”

Steve kisses him again, slow and hot and pulling back in the end with Bucky’s lip between his teeth. “Not gonna stop you.”

**

Steve, it turns out, is very, very, _very_ bad at not having anything to do, which is why he was going to sand and refinish Bucky’s cabinets until he realized they were made of “pressed board, prefab shit” and he decided what Bucky needed was new cabinets altogether, so he ordered a bunch of wood, made Bucky go get his tools, and hunted through the internet for just the right style.

“You know, if we move in together at some point, we’re probably going to stick with your house, right?”

“Someone got shot in my house. As soon as I finish renovating my house, I’m moving out.”

“Oh.” Bucky sits down on the dining room chair. “You are?”

“Yeah. I’ll find a new place.”

“Oh.” 

“Or we could.” He doesn’t look at Bucky, but Bucky can tell he’s smiling. “I mean, unless you’re attached to this condo with its shitty construction, prefab everything horribleness. Your cabinets are basically cardboard, Barnes. This will increase your resale value and not make me fear for the life of your plates.”

“You’re really building me new cabinets.”

“I can’t work. I can’t really even go outside. I’m going out of my fucking mind, and you’re supposed to go back to work in a few days, and so I get to have a fucking police officer outside the door.”

“As opposed to one inside?”

“You’re different. You’re not a fucking police officer. You’re a fucking Detective.” Steve turns his head this time so Bucky can see his smile. “Or, more accurately, a detective I’m fucking.”

“No one’s going to be here watching you. But you could always come to work with me if that’s your thing. I mean, come on. Where are you going to be more watched than a police station?”

“Yes, because I want to hang out with Tony Stark all day.”

“Okay, you have a point there.” Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s back belt loop and tugs him toward him. Steve comes easily and turns so he’s standing between Bucky’s legs. Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s hips. “I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”

“Not your fault.”

“Once I go back to work I’ll know more about how the case is going. I can’t look into it, not officially, but they’ll talk about it.” He leans forward and rests his head on Steve’s stomach. “They’re gonna find the guy and you’re going to be off the hook and then I’ll just never let you leave my sight.”

“Are you going to start going on about the handcuffs again?” Steve reaches up and strokes the fingers of both hands through Bucky’s hair. “Because, you know, I could handcuff you to the bed the next time I work my hand inside you.”

Bucky huffs a rough breath and shivers. “You’re such an asshole.”

Steve sinks down to his knees and looks up the short distance to Bucky’s face. “I want to do everything to you. With you. Just in case.”

“No. There is no just in case. You’re not going anywhere, especially not to jail.” He frames Steve’s face with his hands. “We’ll go full-on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid before that happens.”

“You won’t let me go to jail, but you’ll make me jump off a cliff and then get killed by Bolivians?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. They don’t die. The live happily ever after together.”

“Have you actually seen _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_?”

“Are you kidding me? Newman and Redford are dreamy.” Bucky bats his lashes, yelping as Steve jabs his fingers into Bucky’s sides and tickles him. “Steve! Goddamn it! Steve!” He tries to shove Steve back, but ends up tipping the chair so he falls on top of him. Steve squirms to get his legs straightened and smiles up at Bucky. “No tickling. It’s a rule, remember?”

“I never signed a contract.” Steve rolls them over and kisses him. It’s just a soft peck, then another, and another until they slowly evolve into deep, hungry kisses. Steve shifts to settle his ass over Bucky’s cock and rocks his hips. 

“Mm.” Bucky braces his heels and thrusts upward. “ _Thelma and Louise_ die.”

Steve grabs both of Bucky’s arms and pins them over his head, letting his body fall forward as he puts all his weight on his hands and holds Bucky down for a moment before he shifts back onto his dick. “Shut up.”

“We’re having sex in the kitchen?”

Steve kisses him breathless then pulls back. “We’re not going to want to once it’s filled with sawdust.”

**

Bucky is exhausted halfway through his first day at work. The gun and the badge are a welcome weight, but the rest of his body feels like it weighs twice as much as normal. Natasha keeps giving him looks over the top of her computer, and it’s gotten to the point of irritating him. “What?”

“I’m admiring your restraint.”

“You wouldn’t tell me anything if I asked.”

“True, but I still figured you’d ask. Try to bribe me.”

“What in the world could I bribe you with? You’re unbribable.”

“Also true.” She leans back in her chair. “How’s it going at home?”

“He’s building me cabinets.”

One of her eyebrows curves into a perfect arch. “Is that some new term the kids are using these days?”

“No, that’s ‘my boyfriend is going stir-crazy and the only way to keep him from going back out and probably getting framed for _another_ murder is to keep him locked in my house with some sawhorses, a few saws, a lot of tools Bucky doesn’t recognize, and enough wood for a porn convention’.”

“Been to one of those,” Tony calls out. “Less exciting than you’d think.”

“Surely there’s some way we can get rid of him.”

“Sadly, not legally.” She frowns thoughtfully. “Do you think he could remodel my bathroom?”

“I’m going to pretend that you did not just ask me that.” Bucky rubs his face with his hands. “Tell me you have something to work with at least?”

“Just do your paperwork. And mine, since you’re stuck here at your desk.” She pushes a pile of files at him. “I’ve got a couple people whose days I have to ruin.”  
Bucky watches her go, frowning the entire time. He grabs her stack of folders and is about to set it aside when he sees the one on top. Natasha is the best non-sexual partner a man could have. He looks through the crime scene photos and the evidence. Clint’s preliminary report is in the file -- no semen, and swabs show no condom was used, so he’s likely a non-ejaculator. Which, Bucky would be happy to point out, clearly puts Steve off the suspect list, but proving that is not exactly something he’s willing to do in a court of law.

And he’s pretty sure Steve would die of embarrassment just from the suggestion.

Cause of death appears to be strangulation, and given the vaginal tearing and bleeding, the sex was pre-mortem. There are two distinct blood types, the predominant one being Steve’s, but there’s nothing that would indicate that the perpetrator would leave blood at the scene. Unless it was someone who got shot. Like Steve.

Fuck.

He goes through the photos again, hoping something will jump out at him, but he knows that he’s not going to see anything Natasha didn’t. Still, he knows Steve’s side of the story, so he works it from that angle. From the pictures everything Steve said lines up, so at least there’s going to be reasonable doubt. Assuming, that is, they can find a jury that isn’t going to hold the fact that Steve was arrested for suspicion of murder less than a year ago against him. Though, given the boy-next-door look Steve has -- assuming the boy next door was Mr. Universe -- he might be able to use that to his advantage.

Except Steve’s not going to trial. 

He pulls out his phone and texts Natasha. _I can’t ask tony to run simulations on this, but do you think you could have him check something for me?_ He waits impatiently for her to answer, and when she doesn’t, he shoves his phone away and pulls over one of the other files. One of hers. Because, apparently, _that’s_ the bribe Natasha will take.

He finishes up her files as best he can and stacks them neatly on her desk before diving into his own. The weeks of work he missed are sitting heavily on his shoulders, and he can’t look at the white board, because he knows there are names in red next to his. 

He rests his arm on the too-tall stack of files and puts his head down. He just means to close his eyes, but the light outside the window has changed when he lifts his head up. “Shit.”

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty’s back with us.” Tony tosses a pen at Bucky and Bucky bats it away. “Sweet dreams, Sarge?”

Bucky flips Tony off and walks into the break room, pouring himself a cup of what was probably once coffee. He takes a drink and coughs at the burnt taste on his tongue. He goes back to his desk and picks up his phone, scrolling through his notifications. 

There are two pictures from Steve of cabinets in progress as well as a text informing Bucky that if he wants to have actual food, at some point they’re either going to need to go shopping or order from a grocery service. There’s also a text from Natasha informing him that they are not having this conversation. Bucky sighs and slumps back in his chair.

“Hey.” Riley sits at his desk and shoots Bucky a quick wave. “We’re all meeting up at Carter’s at the end of the shift. You feel like a beer?”

“I should probably get home.”

“Sarge, I know it’s none of my business, but --”

“You’re right. It’s none of your business.”

“But you just got back and you look wound tighter than a drum. One beer’s not going to kill you. And you’re going to do him a hell of a lot more good if you’re not about ready to snap too.”

“Maybe pick a different phrase.”

“Right. No snapping.” He gives Bucky a slight smile. “C’mon, Sarge. We’ve missed you. No one else gets to Stark the way you do. Plus we all think Clint’s gonna ask Natasha to marry him, and you know you want to see that.”

“He wouldn’t propose to her in front of ever… No, okay. It’s Clint. He might.” Bucky picks up his phone and texts Steve. _ill pick up indian on the way home  
gonna have a beer with the squad_

Riley grins as Bucky stands and grabs his jacket. “Okay. Let’s go.”

**

Natasha grabs Bucky by the collar and drags him back to the bathrooms. None of the squad looks at them twice, though they get a few catcalls from the other bar patrons. She slams him up against the wall between the restroom doors and pins him there. She’s shorter and slighter than him, so it should be comical, but Bucky knows her well enough to know that it’s frightening.

“You do _not_ ask me to run simulations for you on the phone. You do not leave any kind of trace -- electronic or otherwise -- on you interfering with an open investigation or, even worse, making it clear that I _helped_ you interfere with an open investigation. Are you a complete idiot or did the perp just shoot the brains out of you as well as your gut?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Your boyfriend’s going to be sorry. Jesus, Bucky. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m… I’m worried. Nervous. Scared. I know there’s probably not enough evidence to convict, but the Pierce and Schmidt case isn’t something people are just going to forget. And some young, beautiful girl ends up dead in a pretty horrifying way?”

“You know none of us believe Steve did this, so why don’t you do what you probably told him to? Trust us to prove it.” She backs off and Bucky rubs his neck.  
“Now. What simulations are you looking for?”

He tells her Steve’s account of what happened, trying not to watch the evolution of her raised eyebrows and sharp looks. When he finishes, she tilts her head back and exhales. Bucky waits, knowing that pushing right now will get him exactly nothing. 

“So he claims he shoved the perp off the girl and, lying on the floor, the guy shot up at Steve, winged him, and then took off.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot. It would have kept Steve from seeing much. And, I don’t know if you know this, but Steve’s gay. There’s pretty much no reason he would have sex with a woman.”

“Trust me, they can sell plenty of reasons he’d do it.” She rakes a hand through her hair and sighs. “Okay. Let me see what I can find out. I’m not promising anything, because I don’t know what, if anything, it will prove. Assuming Stark can do what you’re -- I’m -- asking.”

“Stark can do it. And if he isn’t sure, tell him you should have known it was too much for him, and he’ll have it done even faster.” He closes his eyes for a moment then opens them and looks at her. “Please.”

“I need a drink.”

She turns on her heel and Bucky follows her back out to the bar. There are a few more catcalls, this time coming from their table, but the look Natasha gives the rest of the squad cuts that off quickly. Sam sets a beer in front of Bucky and a glass of vodka in front of Natasha. She downs it in one smooth swallow and he’s pretty sure half the guys in the bar just got erections. 

He begs off after the one beer and heads back home. Despite Steve’s joking, there’s not really a guard in front of the apartment door, but they’d both agreed that it was better if Steve stayed inside. Well, in theory they’d both agreed, but Steve looked more like a caged animal than a guy happy to stay home with Netflix and some Oreos.

He ends up getting Gyros instead of Indian as well as a six-pack of Steve’s favorite beer. There’s a mess where his kitchen used to be, but he manages to step over things to grab two plates off the counter where they’re currently stored. Or displayed, to be more precise. “Steve?”

“Balcony.”

Bucky sets the food on the coffee table and goes out, wrapping his arms around Steve and pressing his cheek against his back. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Steve rests his hands on top of Bucky’s. “How was your first day back?”

“Tiring. I think I could sleep for a week.” He yawns in proof and then laughs. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Steve lifts Bucky’s left hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Bucky shivers, not sure he’ll ever get used to the prosthetic when it comes to this. He’s not normally conscious of it now, but sometimes, like this, he’ll see the glint of the metal in the light and remember. Steve turns his hand over and kisses Bucky’s palm. “Want a backrub?”

“I want to shove food in my face and then crawl into bed with you and not get out. Probably ever.”

“Not sure how feasible that plan is, but we can definitely do food and getting into bed.” Steve turns around and leans against the railing, pulling Bucky in close. He rests his fingers on the side of Bucky’s face, his thumb rubbing back and forth over his lower lip. “Backrub in the bed.”

Bucky drops his head forward to rest against Steve’s chest. “You’re too good to be true.”

“I’m about as fucked up as they come and apparently a magnet for homicide. Not sure those two statements are compatible, and I know mine is the truth.” He bends his head and presses a kiss to the top of Bucky’s bent head. “Food. Then bed. Little detectives need their sleep.”

“My little Detective needs…”

“ _Food_ , Barnes.”

**

Bucky slips out of bed quietly and takes his shower, getting dressed in the light from the bathroom. Steve’s sprawled on the bed on his stomach, the sheet just covering the curve of his ass. Bucky glances at the clock and knows if he goes back to the bed, he won’t make it to work on time. Steve has the softness of sleep in the lines of his body, and Bucky wants to touch and taste them all. And that would definitely take more time than he has.

He walks over and presses a soft kiss to the back of Steve’s head. Steve mumbles and his hand reaches out, grabbing Bucky around the wrist. He turns his head and tugs Bucky in for another kiss, still warm and soft and sleepy. “Go back to sleep.”

Steve hums and Bucky has to carefully ease his wrist free of Steve’s grip. 

He works through the morning and then goes to the doctor to get his final checkup before stopping for some lunch. He’s halfway through his sub when his phone rings.

“Where’s Rogers?”

“At home.”

Natasha’s voice is rough. “You sure?”

“There’s not a fucking armed guard outside my apartment. Why?”

“There’s another victim.”

“Fuck. Dead?”

“Alive.”

“Well ask her who it was!”

He hears Natasha’s notebook pages flipping. She likes doing things the old fashioned way, though privately Bucky thinks she just likes to piss Stark off. “Tall, built, blond, blue eyes. No one she knew but he looked familiar like she’d seen him somewhere before.”

“In the paper?”

“Maybe.” Natasha sighs. “Go home. See how he is, what he’s up to. Keep him inside. Keep his mouth shut. We’re going to bring some mug shots to the hospital. We may need Steve in a line-up.”

“Jesus. Thanks, Nat.” He’s already got the remains of his sandwich wrapped up, and he tosses it in the garbage on the way out the door. There’s no way he’ll be able to eat it now. He heads back to the station and gets his car, driving home as fast as he can.

He bursts in through the front door to the sound of a sander and the smell of freshly cut wood. He inhales deeply as he makes his way into the kitchen. Steve’s got his ear protectors and goggles on and he’s covered in sawdust. His overalls are the pinkish pale of shaved wood and his hair is damp with sweat, curling slightly at his collar.

He turns off the sander and picks up a piece of sandpaper, carefully smoothing the detail work he’d done with the router. Bucky has to stop for a moment, because his cabinets are going to be fucking beautiful.

“Hey.”

Steve jerks slightly and his head whips toward Bucky. He takes a deep breath and exhales, straightening up. “Hey.” He tugs his ear protectors down and pulls off his goggles. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah. I…”

Steve’s smile disappears. “Something happened. Another girl.”

Bucky tries to come up with something to tell him that might make it all sound or seem better. Instead he sighs. “Yeah.”

“And I was here alone and I don’t have an alibi and god-fucking-dammit.” He rubs his jaw and then rips off his leather gloves, throwing them hard at the wall. “Fuck.” 

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“No. It’s not. It’s not even a little bit o-fucking-kay.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, exhaling shakily. “When will they be here?”

“Soon. Natasha gave me a head’s up. The victim is probably looking at mug shots right now. But she gave a vague description.”

“Vague. As in looks just like me vague?” Steve’s head drops back down. “You think it’s safe for me to take a shower or is that going to make me look more guilty?”

Bucky moves over to him, hands smoothing up and down Steve’s arms, dislodging the bits of sawdust from the hairs there. “You didn’t do anything. She’s not going to identify you.”

“How many people get picked from mug shots? How many people get picked out of a lineup? How many of those people are actually guilty?”

“I’m not going to let…”

Steve cuts him off. “How?”

“What?”

“How are you not going to let them arrest me? Convict me? I don’t have an alibi, Buck. Not for the first one, not for this one.” He pulls away, shoulders hunching. “You should probably leave. You’re supposed to be at work, and if they find you here it’s going to look suspicious. Like you’re warning me or you’re going to say you’re my alibi.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Want doesn’t play into this much right now.” He manages a small smile that makes Bucky’s gut twist. “Go.”

Bucky doesn’t move, but Steve goes back to the cabinet face, his back to Bucky. Bucky watches for a moment then leaves, because as much as he hates it, Steve’s right. He goes back to the station and sits at his desk, supposedly working on reports, though he doesn’t really see anything in front of him. The squad room is empty, but he can’t feel grateful for it. He wants a distraction. He’ll even accept one in the form of Stark.

Natasha comes in two hours later, just at the end of the shift, and sinks down at her desk. She closes her eyes, and she looks tired. “Did they arrest him?”

“Yeah.”

“He call Fury?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s stuck here?”

She finally looks at him. “There’ll be a bail hearing, but we both know he won’t be released. He’ll be remanded to custody and stay here until trial or until the real perpetrator is brought in. You know how it works.”

“Yeah. I do.” He exhales and slumps in his seat. “But you know they’re going to put you on something else, even with this in the works. They’re going to divert resources if they’ve got a witness statement.”

“There’s reasonable doubt.”

“How reasonable do you think people will be?” Natasha sighs softly and Bucky can practically hear the hesitancy in it. She’s going to tell him something she knows he doesn’t want to hear, so he doesn’t let her say anything. “He told me we should stop seeing each other. That he’s bad for my career. Is that what you’re going to say, Nat?”

“No.” 

“But you’re thinking it. You’re all thinking it. Aren’t you?”

“No, Bucky. We’re thinking that you look miserable and he looks miserable, and you’re our _friends_ , and we’d like to help. _That’s_ what we’re thinking.” She shakes her head. “I know this is hard, but you need to trust us.”

“I know.” He scrubs his face with his hands. “Fuck. I know. I do. I just…” 

“I know.” She gets up and walks around the desks, standing behind him. She rests her hands on his shoulders and leans in, her forehead against the top of his head. “Go home. You’ve got tomorrow off, so get incredibly drunk and pass out.”

“Not going to be able to sleep knowing he’s here.”

“Hence the drinking.” She squeezes his shoulders. “He’s still in booking, so you can’t see him.”

“Yeah, I know.” He stands up with a sigh and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**

“Working here means you’re not supposed to have homicidal tendencies.” Tony perches on the edge of Bucky’s desk. “Maybe you should go to the range and take out some aggression there. Or the gym. Beat up on something inanimate before you accidentally beat the shit out of a suspect.”

Bucky doesn’t even look up. “Go away, Tony.”

“Okay, okay. So I guess it’s not necessary for me to tell you that the victim is out of the hospital and the lineup is happening in a half hour or so. In case you wanted to see the good Captain.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“You know you guys actually earned those ranks, right? It’s not supposed to be an insult.”

“Steve doesn’t like the memories it brings up.”

“And you?” There’s a lack of sarcasm in Tony’s voice, which causes Bucky to look at him.

“I left being a sergeant behind in the desert with my arm. It’s only a cruel twist of fate that I was one on the force too.”

Tony frowns. “You know we respect the hell out of you, right?”

Bucky tilts his head and looks at Tony. “Yeah, Tony. I know. And I’m damn glad we have you on our team.”

“Because I’d make a great evil mastermind, right?”

“To stop you from becoming one.” Bucky grabs his jacket and phone. “Don’t get any ideas, okay?” 

He jogs down the stairs to the garage and drives to the precinct nearest the jail Steve’s in for the lineup. He ignores the look Natasha gives him when he slips into the room. She’s in the middle of talking to the victim anyway, so she can’t actually say anything, but Natasha rarely needs words to get her point across. Sam just looks at Bucky and shakes his head before leaning into the microphone.

“All right, bring ‘em in.”

Seven men file in, and the first five are all broad and blond and have blank expressions. Steve walks in sixth, and Bucky presses his lips together to keep from making a sound. Steve looks exhausted and sad, and Bucky wants to push his way into the room and take him into his arms. Sam has each of the men step forward and say a phrase that, said over and over, has the victim shivering. Steve’s whole posture changes when they call his number, and he stands as straight as he had in the picture he’d had taken the day he graduated from West Point. 

Fuck, he’s beautiful.

The words -- _spread your goddamned legs, you bitch_ \-- sound wrong and uncomfortable coming from Steve. Sam tells him to step back and he does, dropping his eyes. They call the seventh suspect forward to take his turn, and then the victim asks for a few of them to come forward again, turn this way or that, speak again.

The entire time, Bucky’s nails dig into his palms and he feels like he’s just beneath the water, frozen there under the surface, waiting to break free and take a breath.

“Ms. Valli?” Natasha’s voice is soft, a different kind of soft than the one she uses in the box. 

“C-can I hear number six again?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches as Sam calls Steve forward. “Repeat the phrase, number six.” Steve does and it still sounds like a bad actor forced to say someone else’s lines. Sam waits for a moment for the victim to say something and, when she doesn’t, he leans back into the mike. “Step back, number six.”

Natasha shoots a quick glance back at Bucky, but he doesn’t make a sound. He’s not completely sure he’s actually breathing. “Mrs. Valli?”

“I can’t… I think…”

Sam’s phone rings and he steps away, back against the wall by Bucky. “Wilson.” He listens for a moment then his gaze snaps to Natasha. “Nat.”

She’s glaring at him when she turns, but whatever she sees in his expression makes it disappear. “Ms. Valli? I”m going to leave you here for a moment with Officer Knight. We’re going to black out the window while we’re gone.”

She nods, trembling and finally looking away from the window when it goes dark. Natasha follows Sam out the door, and swings it wide enough that Bucky has time to get through before it closes. Sam glances at Bucky, then at Natasha. “We can wrap this up here.”

“What?”

“Third victim. Same M.O. Only this time there was an officer in the vicinity who heard her scream. Caught the guy in the act.”

Bucky straightens. “They caught him? It’s the same guy?”

“Yeah. Victim’s on her way to the hospital. Officer didn’t get there in time to stop the guy from starting, but she’s gonna be okay.”

Natasha glances back at the viewing room. “Get a mug shot of the guy and let’s show it to her. Tell the guard to put the men back in the holding cell.” She turns her head sharply and glares at Bucky. “You.”

“I haven’t seen him in over a week, Nat. I just… I just wanted to see him.”

“You’d better be damn glad I like you.”

“I thank god every day.” Bucky smiles hopefully at her, and she smirks. She walks over and grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her. 

“You do something like this again, Barnes, and I’ll call I.A. in faster than you can blink, got it?”

“Stop accusing my boyfriend of crimes, and I’ll never step a toe out of line again.”

“I’m not dumb enough to believe that.” She takes the mug shot from Sam when he brings it over and looks at it, then shows it to Bucky. The guy is exactly as Ms. Valli had described. And he does look vaguely familiar. 

“That’s the local cable news anchor isn’t it?” Bucky’s brow furrows. “Probably even more familiar to someone than a guy who was accused of murder a good eight months ago.”

“Probably.” Natasha’s smiling. “Go sit down somewhere, shut up, and pretend that you know what protocol is. Sam and I have work to do.”

**

Bucky’s parked illegally in front of the building when Fury walks Steve out. He’s pretty sure that Nick is warning him that if this happens again, he’s not going to be happy. Not that Bucky thinks Nick is ever happy. Still, he shakes Steve’s hand and walks down the stairs away from him.

“Hey, handsome. You need a ride?”

Steve walks down the steps and stops in front of Bucky. “You say things like that they’re going to arrest me for prostitution.”

“They’d have to arrest me for soliciting too. Maybe we’d get our own cell together.”

Steve shivers. “I’ve been in enough cells to last me a lifetime.” He leans in and rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah. Get in.”

Steve doesn’t say anything on the ride home. His head is back against the seat and his eyes are closed. Bucky reaches out and rubs his thumb across Steve’s thigh in slow arcs. He does hum softly under his breath, and he lets his head fall to the side so he’s facing Bucky. 

“You need to stop by your place for anything?”

“I don’t think so. I’m just…” Steve sighs. “Tired.”

“Okay.” Bucky keeps moving his thumb, pressing a little harder against Steve’s thigh, something solid and firm to ground him. “Take you home, get you showered and tucked into bed.”

Steve’s mouth curves slightly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing anything.”

Steve catches Bucky’s hand on his thigh and lifts it to his mouth, pressing barely-there kisses against his knuckles. “Doing more than you know.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand tightly and keeps driving, thumb now rubbing over Steve’s. They finish the rest of the drive in silence, and Steve drifts off. Bucky parks in the underground garage and just watches him for a moment. Steve normally has this ethereal type of beauty, but right now it’s something else. Something raw and real in his exhaustion, in the wake of being isolated and alone. 

Shifting in his seat, Bucky puts his knee up and turns his head to face Steve, cheek against the fabric. He loves his friends and family, and he’s sure he’s been in love before. There were people before Steve. People that mattered and people who shared his life and his bed, but he can’t think of any of them now. Not that they don’t matter, that he didn’t love them, but right here, right now. There’s nothing but Steve.

Bucky reaches out and brushes his finger along Steve’s jaw. “The bed’ll be much more comfortable.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks. “Shh. ‘m dreaming.”

“Open your eyes. I’ll be your dream come true.” Steve doesn’t so much laugh as snort, blinking his long lashes as he looks at Bucky. Bucky waggles his eyebrows. “See?”

Steve doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Bucky, eyes open the entire time as he leans in to kiss him. Bucky watches his slow movement, then closes his eyes, swaying in to meet Steve’s mouth with his. It’s slow and exploring, like Steve’s trying to discover Bucky’s taste for the first time. 

Bucky threads his fingers in Steve’s hair, the normally soft strands dry and brittle from the jail showers. He gives Steve a series of short kisses and pulls back. “Let’s go inside, okay?” 

Steve nods. “Yeah.” He cups his hand along Bucky’s jaw and leans in and kisses him again, hard and quick. Bucky knows he needs to let Steve shower and go to bed, but it’s been over a week, and Bucky’s desperate to touch him. It’s like a sudden onslaught of need. He reaches for Steve again and drags him back in for another kiss, deep and hungry. He makes a low noise and crawls over the emergency brake and straddles Steve’s lap as well as he can. 

Steve moans and grabs Bucky’s hips, holding him tight against him. Bucky breaks the kiss so he can bite and suck on Steve’s earlobe, reaching down and tugging the handle on the side of the seat so it lays back. He finds Steve’s mouth again and it’s not a kiss so much as a bruising of their mouths, both of them barely breathing from the need. 

Bucky rucks Steve’s shirt up, getting his hands on the skin of his abdomen, feeling the trail of hair against his palm. Steve slides his hands to Bucky’s ass, squeezing it hard as he pulls Bucky down against him, his own hips thrusting up. “God. God, Steve.” Bucky grinds down, feeling the hard press of Steve’s cock against his ass. “Fuck. Please.”

The kisses get harder, deeper. Their tongues fuck and tangle and Bucky gets his hands higher, scratching his short nails over Steve’s nipples, and Steve lets out rough, high-pitched breaths in response. Bucky kisses the sounds out of his mouth, swallowing them. He can feel Steve shiver beneath him and then he feels Steve’s hand between them, working at Bucky’s belt and his pants. 

He doesn’t even pull Bucky’s cock out of his boxer briefs, just gets his hand inside and strokes him hard and tight. There’s not much room for Steve to get any leverage, but he brings Bucky to the edge with short, fast strokes combined with the hard thrust of his cock against Bucky’s ass.

He bites Steve’s lip hard as he comes, shuddering above him. Steve gasps out a sharp breath and Bucky releases him before capturing his lip again and sucking at it. When he lets go, his lip feels puffy, swollen and hot. He pulls back just enough to look down at Steve. “Welcome home?”

“How many of your neighbors do you think walked by and spotted us?”

“Mm. None. They’d still be watching.” He kisses Steve softly. “Fuck, I’m going to have to carry my jacket in front of me.”

“I want it on record that you’re the one who climbed in my lap.”

“True.” Bucky sits back, carefully putting pressure on Steve’s cock. “I’m also the one who’s going to stretch you out naked on the bed, suck at those hard nipples until you’re writhing and begging, and then I’m going to finger you while I suck you.”

Steve groans and thrusts his hips up. Bucky grinds down again and gets another groan for his trouble. “Inside.”

Bucky shoves open Steve’s door and climbs out. Steve raises the chair back and climbs out as well. They both carry their jackets as they walk to the elevator, Steve to hide his erection and Bucky to hide the aftermath of his. “I feel like a teenager.”

“I’m not the one who came in my pants.” Steve gives him a grin. 

Bucky steps closer and leans in, breath brushing Steve’s ear, and drops his voice low. “What if I sank down and blew you right now?”

Steve makes a strangled noise and shifts, turning to face Bucky and press him against the back of the elevator. He kisses him, owns Bucky’s mouth. When the elevator stops, they break apart, both of them breathing like they’ve been running miles. Steve steps back and grabs Bucky by the collar, tugging him toward the apartment. Bucky goes easily and fumbles his keys out so he can open the door as soon as they reach it. 

Bucky shoves the door open, pushing Steve inside. He slams it shut behind them and immediately starts stripping off Steve’s clothes. Steve tries to kick off his shoes while he’s undressing Bucky, and they both nearly fall. They pull apart, toeing off shoes and stepping on their socks to pull them off as quickly as possible.

They’re both down to their underwear by the time they get to the bedroom and Bucky kicks his off, wanting to be rid of the remains of his orgasm. He pushes Steve onto the bed and crawls up him, mouth immediately doing what he promised and covering one of Steve’s nipples. 

Steve’s cock jerks in his underwear as Bucky tightens the suction, letting his tongue flick over the hard flesh. He normally doesn’t spend much time on Steve’s nipples because playing with them brings him so close to the edge so fast, but right now, he wants Steve out of his head. Wants him to leave the jail and the accusations and everything behind. Everything but the feel of Bucky’s mouth, of his tongue and his teeth, and his body pressed down on top of him.

Steve’s hips are moving, thrusting up, grinding against Bucky. Bucky knows it’s all on instinct, because Steve’s not thinking. He’s writhing and making desperate little noises that make Bucky’s cock throb. He moves to Steve’s other nipple and bites, tugging at it before he releases the skin and sucks at it. Steve’s back arches off the bed and he whimpers.

“B-buck. Close, fuck.”

Bucky lifts himself up so he’s looking down at Steve. His pupils are dilated, nearly obliterating the blue. His lips are bitten and swollen and his nipples are a bright pink. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He kisses Steve hard, reaching for the lube at the same time. He breaks the kiss once he has it and leaves a trail of bites down Steve’s chest and stomach as he pulls off Steve’s boxer briefs. 

Steve’s cock is hard and curved and leaking onto his stomach, a drip of pre-come hanging from the head. Bucky catches it with his finger, then sucks it into his mouth, watching Steve watching him, licking his lips. “Fuck.” Bucky pulls his finger out of his mouth. “I need a cock ring on you so you can’t go off until I’m ready for you to.”

“Fu-fucking… Jesus, Bucky.” 

“You like that? “ He licks the head of Steve’s dick as he slicks lube onto his fingers. “Want that? Tight around you so I’m in control of when you come? Get one for your balls too? You want that?”

Steve shudders and he spreads his legs wider. Bucky chuckles low and warm as he rubs his fingers over Steve’s hole. He doesn’t push, just rubs as Steve moves against him, trying to get pressure. Steve pushes his heels against the mattress and lifts his hips, angling himself toward Bucky’s fingers.

“How long do you think I could make you last? How many times could I take you to the edge before you were begging? How long would it take you to fall apart for me?”

“B-buck.”

Bucky wraps his free hand tight around the base of Steve’s cock just as he pushes a finger inside him. Steve groans, rough and thick, his body clenching around Bucky’s finger. Bucky squeezes Steve’s cock tighter, watching the reaction ripple through Steve’s body. Goosebumps rise on Steve’s skin and he thrusts against Bucky’s hand. 

Bucky fucks him, crooking his finger and rubbing the sensitive flesh. He doesn’t touch Steve’s prostate no matter how Steve tries to shift and angle his body to make him. Steve’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. His eyes are closed, and Bucky can see the dampness of tears darkening Steve’s lashes, slipping from his eyes to roll down into his hair. 

Bucky works a second finger in and he’s not sure how he knows that this is what Steve needs, but he knows. Somehow he knows that even though he’s safe here with Bucky he needs to be somewhere else in his head. Or out of his head. Somewhere only Bucky can touch him. He has to swallow around the lump in his throat, chase away the milkiness of tears before he can lean in and forget himself, lose himself in Steve.

Steve’s cock throbs in Bucky’s hand. It’s flushed dark red, veins standing out purple against the skin. Bucky licks his lips then takes the head into his mouth, sucking at it with his lips closed tight around the ridge and his tongue working at the slit. 

He hears Steve’s nails dig into the sheets and feels the fabric tighten when he catches them in his fists. Bucky spreads his fingers wide and then pulls them out, pushing a third in when he slides them back deeper. He can’t hear the noises he knows Steve’s making over his own pulse.

He takes Steve’s cock deeper as he thrusts. He can feel his spit pooling on the circle of his fingers around the base, and he shifts his grip, giving Steve a moment of no pressure before Bucky’s fingers are wrapped tight again. The gasp Steve makes has Bucky thrusting his fingers harder, fucking into him while he fucks his throat with Steve’s cock. He’s grinding into the mattress, hard again. 

Steve’s breath and hips are hitching and Bucky knows that pretty soon even his grip isn’t going to keep Steve from coming. He tightens his mouth, holding Steve tight between his tongue and his palate, sucking hard as he rubs the vein on the underside with his tongue. Steve is shivering and mewling above him, around him, and Bucky curves his fingers, pressing against Steve’s prostate as he releases the suction. It’s an endless moment before Steve’s coming, hot in Bucky’s mouth, down his throat.

Bucky can feel the tears in his own eyes as he swallows until Steve whimpers and twitches at the sensation. Pulling off slowly, Bucky works his fingers out of Steve. He gets onto his knees, guiding Steve’s thighs over his own. He braces one hand above Steve’s shoulder and looks down on him, using his free hand to line himself up with Steve’s hole so he can push in, following the slick path of his fingers until he can feel the heat of Steve’s body against his balls. 

Steve’s body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and he glows in the sunlight filtering through the bedroom curtains. Bucky leans over him and braces himself as he starts to move. Steve’s head is tipped back and his eyes are closed, his lips parted with his rapid breaths. Bucky shifts his weight to his left hand and uses the other to catch Steve’s nipple and pinch.

Steve cries out softly and Bucky kisses him, licking into his mouth as he keeps thrusting. Bucky uses both hands for support as he fucks into him. Steve wraps his legs over the back of Bucky’s and thrusts down onto Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s own breath is rasping in his chest and he knows that he should take a long time to come again, but he can feel the heat building, knows that it’s only going to take a few more strokes before he loses control. 

His entire body goes stiff as his orgasm hits him and he buries himself as deep inside Steve as he can. His body jerks a few times, trying to push deeper until he trembles to a stop. Steve’s legs are still wrapped around him and Bucky slowly lowers himself down on top of Steve, nothing between them except sweat and Steve’s mostly spent cock. 

Steve turns his head and kisses Bucky’s jaw. “Pretty sure I’m never moving again.”

Laughing softly, Bucky turns his head to meet Steve’s, sharing a breathless kiss. “Don’t say that. Pretty sure at some point, I’m really gonna need you to fuck me.”

“Give me at least a week to recover.”

Bucky smiles against his lips, wincing slightly as he softens. He pulls carefully out of Steve, and he can’t help watching the spill of his come as it leaks out of Steve’s body. It takes a moment for what just happened to hit him. “Oh. Well. Oh, shit.”

Steve lifts his head slightly and frowns. “What’s the matter?”

Without thinking, Bucky reaches down and catches the trail of come as it leaks from Steve’s ass and rubs it around the rim of his hole. Steve sucks in a breath at the touch, and then his eyes widen as he seems to realize what that means. 

“Oh.”

“I…” Bucky’s not sure what to say after that. He’s _never_ had sex without a condom. Never even thought of doing it. He raises his eyes to Steve’s. “Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. I… I’m clean. I swear. I never… I haven’t...“

“Buck.” Steve sits up, making a face. Bucky can only imagine what it feels like, what Steve feels like right now. “Hey.” He catches Bucky’s chin in his hand. “Hey.”  
“I have test results somewhere.”

“Bucky.” Bucky blinks and meets Steve’s eyes. Steve doesn’t look angry. Doesn’t look upset or hurt. He smiles as he leans in and nuzzles near Bucky’s ear. “Can feel your come in me.”

“O-oh.” He swallows hard, knowing his skin is flushed with more than just the sex and the heat or the room. “Y-yeah?”

“Clench my ass so I can keep you inside me.” Steve’s voice is low and warm and Bucky can’t help but shiver. “Never had anyone inside me like this, Buck.”

Bucky whines and turns his head, kissing Steve hungrily. He doesn’t think, can’t think, can only feel the pulse of his body beating to the sound of Steve’s name. Steve shifts back, pulling Bucky with him, holding him close as they keep kissing, sometimes slow and deep, and other times hard and desperate. Finally they stop and Bucky rests his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’ve never done that either.”

Steve’s fingers draw a lazy line up Bucky’s spine. “You think it says something about us that neither of us realized? Thought?” 

“That we’re both idiots?”

Steve laughs, and Bucky feels the sound rumble against his chest. “Exactly what I was thinking.” 

Bucky kisses Steve’s chest. “That now we really need to shower?”

“That I love you. And, if everything goes to plan and I don’t get arrested for murder again, we’re going to be together for a very long time.”

“You mean.” Bucky can’t help grinning. “Like a life sentence?”


End file.
